Pink Champagne and Leather
by smoking-tulips
Summary: Cécile has never been one for alternative music, but sometimes the dark sides appear a little more alluring.


Prompted on tumblr for Monaco meeting metalhead!Norway and not knowing what to think of him

* * *

The party her brother had invited her along to was to be held in a rather grand downtown hotel.

Red carpets, chandeliers, people filling up your champagne glass without asking – the good stuff.

Cécile was excited. In-between all her training it was nice to get one night where she could just enjoy herself.

"This the place?" the taxi driver asked them and Francis nodded in reply.

"Oh," Cécile uttered softly as they stepped out the car, the hotel was definitely grand.  
 _Perfect._

"Nice, isn't it?" Francis laughed and strode towards the entrance.

Cécile remained behind for a moment, simply to admire her surroundings for just one minute longer.  
However, across the road and a little to the left she spotted something that was far from grand.

"Oh my," she whispered, her eyes falling on a group of black dressed people standing outside a bar – leather and spikes appearing to be _their_ dress code for the night.

"Probably the bar 'Cerberus' holding a music night," Francis explained when he realised his little sister had stopped walking. "Arthur sometimes goes there. Good thing we're staying away."

"Yes…" Cécile nodded, her eyes fixated upon one of the men who's torn black t-shirt revealed some intricate tattoos on his arms. She couldn't help but wonder just how far they went. "Very good…" she mumbled, not realising she'd been staring until the guy turned and caught her eye.  
She froze, terrified of what he'd do to her.  
Maybe come over?  
Threaten her?  
Chase her away?

Cécile swallowed nervously – but the man didn't move closer.  
He flashed her a smile and gave her a wink before turning back to his little group of black and leather clad friends.

She let out a small sigh of relief and hurried after her brother.  
Best to keep away from people who dressed like they spoke to daemons she thought, glad to be beside her brother once more as he handed her some champagne before dragging her over to some people "she just had to meet."

Cécile did try to enjoy herself – but as the night went on the only thing she really enjoyed was the champagne.  
Far too many people had asked her what use she could have with a dance degree, and far too many people had stopped listening every time she tried to explain.  
Disheartened and not feeling like drinking with people who seemed to love art but disliked artists, Cécile slipped outside the hotel for some fresh air.

Across the road she could hear the music coming from the bar – deep bass lines and a dark growling voice.  
It didn't sound very pleasant, but the grand hotel had looked ever so inviting and turned out to be the complete opposite.

With a slight determination in her step, Cécile ran across the road and peered inside the bar through the open doors.

She wasn't sure what the other bar-goers were doing could be categorised as dancing – head banging and running in circles wasn't really her idea of dance – but they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot. She didn't dare go inside, choosing to remain outside and peer inside through the doorway.

"You'll catch a cold standing out here," a deep voice spoke and Cécile jumped from fright, spinning around – her face almost colliding into the man's chest.

"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to keep the fear in her voice away.

"Really?" the man asked. "That dress doesn't look very warm…"

"Left my coat in the hotel," she retorted and wrapped her arms around herself. She stuck out like a sore thumb in this bar filled with people in leather and black. Her pink dress was impossible to ignore in the sea of dark colours.

"Here," the man said and peeled off his own leather jacket, handing it over to her without another word.

Cécile stared at it for a moment before slowly taking it from his hands, momentarily worried he'd rip it away and laugh at her.  
But he did no such thing, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for her to put the jacket on.

"Want to join?" he asked her, gesturing to the inside of the bar and the sea of people still running in circles.

"It's very loud…" Cécile whispered in return.

"Ah," the man nodded knowingly. "Got that covered," he said and pointed to one of the pockets in his leather jacket. "There's some ear-plugs in there."

"Oh?" Cécile wasn't sure she believed it, but as she stuck her hand into the pocket it turned out he was right.

"Use those," he said and flashed her a brief smile.

"Thank you…" Cécile said softly, putting them in before following him inside, tiptoeing as if she was scared her entering would somehow make everyone turn on her.

The band on the small stage shouted that they were going to be taking a break, and the people who had been 'dancing' started fanning out towards the sides of the venue or milling around the bar.  
Cécile felt trapped in a sea of tall people all looking like they'd happily commit a crime five times over.  
Everyone was wearing something with leather or spikes – and so far she hadn't seen anyone who didn't have a tattoo or piercings.  
She froze as a tall guy pushed past her, muttering a dark 'sorry' before continuing towards the stage.  
Cécile felt lost, she looked around frantically but didn't know where to go.

"Wrong way," the blond man from before said and reached for her hand, pulling her towards the bar – pushing others away so she could actually move.  
"What would you like?" he asked as they reached the bar.

Cécile blinked, still tipsy and filled with courage from her numerous glasses of champagne.  
"I don't need anything…" she said, eyeing the bottles of liquor lining the wall behind the bar.

"You sure?" the man said. "Not even a whisky?"

"I prefer cognac," Cécile said truthfully.

"One beer and one cognac," the man said to the bartender before Cécile could protest.  
She debated running out right now, but there were so many people and she was about half the height of everyone around her. Most people didn't even see her, if she wanted to get out she'd have to crawl – and that idea didn't sound nice at all.

"Here," the man said and handed her a small glass of cognac.

"Thank you," Cécile replied, sniffing the contents and taking a hesitant sip of the golden liquid.  
Much to her joy it certainly tasted like the real stuff.

"Come on," the man took her free hand and guided her away from the bar, shooing some intimidating looking men away from a bar table and stool in the corner.  
"You can sit here. That way you can actually see the stage," the man explained.

Cécile looked at the bar stool and sighed. Whoever invented these things had never thought that some people were too short to reach up to them without a stepping stool.

The man seemed to sense her dismay, because he grabbed her gently by the waist and lifted her up with ease.

"Ah!" Cécile exclaimed, heart beating a little too fast.

"Whops. Sorry," the man laughed. "You're up now."

"Yes… thank you," Cécile replied, trying not too stare too much at his tattoos.  
She crossed her legs and glanced out over the mass of people, feeling a little less out of place now that the man's leather jacket covered the top half of her dress.  
The venue was a lot bigger than she'd originally thought – even if the stage was rather small, they made good use of the space.

"What's your name?" she asked the man, clutching her drink for protection. For some reason the cool glass in her hand made her feel a little safer.

"Erik," the man replied and held his hand out for her to shake.

"Cécile," she replied and shook it, glad to actually have a name to call him by now – instead of tall and scary.

"Do you come here often?" she asked him after taking a sip of her drink, blushing as she realised how awfully like a pick-up line that had sounded.

"Eh," Erik shrugged. "Mostly just in weekends. There's only live music every second Friday though, so I try to make these nights when I can. Music is always best live."

"Mhm," Cécile nodded in agreement, even if the music in this place was probably far from her tastes.  
She watched him take a swig of his beer, most men had rather long hair – and she so far was convinced at least 80% of the people in here dyed their hair black too.  
Erik on the other hand still had short blond hair.  
At least it made him slightly easier to spot should she loose him in the crowd.

"What do you do?" she asked as she saw the band begin to prepare the stage again.

"Hm?" Erik turned to her, eyebrow raised as he looked at her questioningly.

"Do you work?" she asked again.

"Oh, yeah," Erik nodded. "I'm a finance advisor."

Cécile almost chocked on her drink.  
"What?"

"Don't look it now do I?" Erik chuckled.

"No.. you don't," Cécile coughed.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to cover tattoos up with a long sleeved shirt and a nice suit."

"Oh…" Cécile uttered, gaze wandering back to his sleeve tattoos – she really wanted to know the story behind some of them (if there _was_ any story behind them).  
"And the piercings?" she asked.

"These?" Erik pointed to the ones in his ears. "I just take them out," he explained, removing one earring for effect and handing it to her. "Most people don't notice the holes anyway," he shrugged.

Cécile turned the earning around in her hands, it was pretty plain but still nice.  
"Not many business men wear earrings," she commented.

"Probably more than you think," Erik laughed. "But few have one of these," he said and stuck his tongue out, showing off a tongue piercing.

"Ohh…" Cécile gasped. "It that a…skull?" she asked, afraid to lean too close but also _dying_ to get a better look.

"Mhm," Erik nodded before closing his mouth. "I don't always take that one out," he added.

"Doesn't it feel weird?" Cécile asked, imaging it must feel awful to have something stuck in your tongue.

"At first, yeah, but that you get used to it," Erik explained. "Worst part is that I often hit it against the back of my teeth."

"I see…" Cécile lied, her mind wandering into thoughts of what it would feel like if she kissed someone with a tongue piercing.

"What do you do?" he asked her, snapping her out of her daydreams.

"I'm a dancer," she replied a little hesitantly.

"Dancer?" Erik echoed. "Wow. What kind of dance do you do?"

Cécile blinked – that wasn't the reaction or question she had expected.  
"Mostly ballet, but I've done some more modern dances too…"

"Oh wow. That's really cool," Erik said, smiling genuinely. "I'm afraid in comparison we don't really do anything very impressive," he laughed and motioned the the sea of people who were gearing themselves up for the music.

"I think you guys maybe dance very…aggressively," she whispered.

"Well yeah, but that's half the fun. It's pretty safe actually. If someone falls, you pick them up. If someone tries to get out of the mosh pit: let them," Erik explained. "At most you leave with some bruises."

"I'll just stay here if that's okay," she said softly, clutching her drink and wondering if she should slip out when the music started.

"Of course," Erik hummed, draining the remains of his beer and placing the empty glass on the table. "But I'm going to go a few rounds."

"Okay…" she replied, watching him strip his t-shirt off and flinging in into her lap before he pushed his way towards the stage.

Cécile stared wide eyed as the band screamed at the crowd to get ready – and the crown responded with what could only be some form of battle cry.  
She was equally parts fascinated and terrified.

As the music started, the whole room seemed to vibrate.  
She caught a glimpse of Erik in the crowd, smiling as he got pushed into a wall of other men.  
I looked awfully violent, but Cécile saw no bloody noses or broken bones.

She saw people fall to the floor, get picked up by someone else and then continued around and around in a circle.  
There was a choreography in it all.  
She didn't see it at first – but when the second song kicked into high gear she started to appreciate it a bit more.

She cheered at the end of the song, the energy of the others in the bar getting to her.  
This was certainly an improvement from having to explain to ten different people that she had no intention of quitting dancing to become a teacher.

By the third song, Erik appeared by her side again, sweat dripping from his brow and chest and he was sporting some small red marks on his arms, abdomen and chest areas.  
Cécile was fairly certain those marks would become some spectacularly vivid bruises by the morning.

"That was actually fun," she admitted as they stood outside the bar. Francis was probably looking for her and she figured she should probably start making her way home.

"Good," Erik replied. "Maybe you can come back next Friday? It will be a bit more quiet then," he added.

"Oh… yes," Cécile replied. "Sure. That would be nice," she said truthfully, actually looking forward to it.  
"Don't forget your jacket," she said and shrugged it off her shoulders and handed it back.

"Hrm," Erik made a slight grimace, rummaging through the pockets and retrieving some keys and a phone. "Keep it till next Friday," he said.

"But you'll freeze," she commented worriedly.

"Hardly, I'm boiling," Erik chuckled and ruffled his almost soaking wet hair. "Mosh pits are like a full work out."

"I can see that…" Cécile whispered, hoping it hadn't been to obvious she'd been admiring his body throughout the entire night.  
She bit her lip as she put the jacket back on, already rather fond of the heavy and warm material.  
It smelt like beer, coffee, sweat and cologne; but she didn't mind. It kept her warm and safe in a way.

"I'll try to wear something darker next time," she laughed and tried to smooth some stray hairs down from her braid. "I felt people were staring at me…"

"Nah," Erik made a half-hearted attempt at a shrug. "No one really cares. Pink suits you," he added.

"Thank you," Cécile stammered forward, blushing a little.  
"Black is a good colour on you," she added with a soft laugh.

"Hope so," Erik chuckled before leaning down kissing er hand softly.  
"I'm rather fond of black clothes," he grinned.

"I can see that," Cécile bit her lip and tried to hide her growing smile as her stomach started breeding butterflies. "You're very gallant," she added, more than pleasantly surprised at his mannerisms.

"Well I didn't think you were here for a one night stand," Erik smiled and winked at her.

"True," Cécile giggled. "But I'll permit a kiss."

"Well if you insist," Erik licked his lips, bending down again to kiss her cheek softly – Cécile was almost disappointed he didn't straight out French kiss her.  
That piercing was going to haunt her dreams till she actually got to feel what it felt like.

"See you next Friday at 8?" he asked as he pulled away.

"Yes," Cécile smiled. "See you then," she wrapped his leather jacket around herself and waved at him before running back across the road.  
Her pink dress stained with sweat and alcohol – and she was certain she stank of cigarettes and beer, but that had been thrillingly fun.

She would have a few things to explain to her brother, but that didn't matter.  
Cécile had enjoyed the hour at the bar far more than she had enjoyed the hours in the hotel.  
And despite his initial terrifying appearance – Erik was _intriguing_.

Perhaps she'd even try out his way of 'dancing' next time.


End file.
